


Winged Feet

by SleepingReader



Series: Winged Feet - Frida (Gato) Kahlo AU [1]
Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Héctor finds his alebrije, Like literally fluff hahahah, Now Includes ART!, Still Gets Updated, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-02-22 07:06:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 14,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13161798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepingReader/pseuds/SleepingReader
Summary: Everything turned out okay. Héctor has found his family again, Coco remembers him and Imelda loves him again.But Santa Muerte is not satisfied.It is high time that Héctor got his own alebrije, don't you think?





	1. Winged Feet

Surprisingly, everything had turned out… okay. After his great-great-grandson Miguel returned to the Land of the Living, and Coco had remembered him, Héctor Rivera had needed a few days of rest. Oscar and Felipe had invited him to sleep in their home for the time. That surprised him. Imelda’s _hermanos_ had always teased him mercilessly about everything. But as they said: ‘You have always been our _hermano_ , Héctor.’  
Rosita and Victoria had surprised him too, by welcoming him into their home and lives. Rosita had started teaching him about shoemaking. ‘After all, Pápa Héctor,’ she had said, ‘you are _familia_.’  
But the biggest surprise had been Imelda. She had not shown herself for two days, always seeming to disappear on one errand or another. Once, she actually flew away on her alebrije Pepita when he came too close.  
Last night there had been a knock on his bedroom door. He had opened it to see his wife standing there. They had talked all night, about Coco, Santa Cecilia, Miguel and their _familia_ , but mostly about why Héctor went away. He told the truth. He had wanted to come back the very minute he left them. But Ernesto had always been able to talk everything around. When Héctor finally got his mind together and left, Ernesto had murdered him and stolen his clothes and his guitar. Worst of all, he had written Imelda a letter about how he had lost Héctor. That Héctor had run off to play solo somewhere. After more than 90 years, Imelda and Héctor understood each other.  
The day after, Imelda had almost shyly asked Héctor to sleep in her bed once more. The death do not sleep, but they nap like the best of us. And for Héctor, the best nap was in his beloved’s arms.

Everything was great. Héctor could still feel his bones mending, and last night Imelda had noticed they were only a shade darker than hers. Coco was passing on his story, and it seemed Miguel had been restoring his legacy. Skeletons came in every day, and some with tales of how Santa Cecilia was going through a change. The statues of Ernesto de la Cruz had been forgotten, his mausoleum shut. Héctor’s guitar was finally where it belonged. With Miguel, who was becoming quietly famous in Mariachi Plaza.  
Héctor had accepted the role of courier for the Rivera shoemaking business, while learning to make shoes himself and playing his music, getting as known in the Land of the Dead as his great-great-grandson was becoming in the Land of the Living.

Everything was amazing.  
But it seemed Santa Muerte was not satisfied.

One day, when Héctor Rivera was walking along a bridge, something furry and brightly coloured flung itself at him and started attacking his suspenders. When he got himself together again (literally and figuratively), he was able to grab the furry creature by the scruff of its neck.  
It was an extremely fluffy cat-shaped alebrije with tiny wings on its feet and a permanently surprised expression. It twisted gently on its scruff, batting at Héctor’s fingers with little paws and mew-ing at him. While Imelda’s Pepita was all organised bright colours and elegancy, this cat was the alebrije version of a fluffy calico. Splotches of neon yellow, orange, green, blue and pink ran along its fluffy body, as if it had been finger-painted by a little girl. Héctor wondered if he would look stupid talking to it.

 _’Ehm…Hola, amigo…?’_ he tried.  
The alebrije-cat meowed at him. It was more a sort of shrill _beep_. Its tiny ears, hidden under thick yellow and pink fur, went back.  
’Oh, sorry. Amiga.’ He said. The alebrije purred. Her, for it was a her, winged feet fluttered, lifting her feet up into the air a little. Héctor learned later that the winged feet didn’t do much for flying, but that it did help the small alebrije jump.  
Héctor put the ball of fluff down and considered it. The cat started playing with a loose thread on his trousers, but failed miserably. Every time she attempted to jump a certain way, her winged feet got a completely different opinion, and went another way.  
It seemed Héctor had found the most uncoordinated alebrije in the entire Land of the Dead.  
He found he rather liked it.

He tried smuggling the alebrije into the Rivera house. Hiding her under his jacket, he made it past the workshop. But Imelda always found out everything.  
’Héctor, what is that?’  
Defeated, he opened his shirt. To his surprise, the little alebrije had curled up inside his chest cavity and had fallen asleep.  
‘This is…’ he needed to bluff. He needed a name. He looked around desperately. He saw a poster. ‘…Frida Kahlo. She’s... my alebrije’  
‘You said you didn’t have an alebrije. You told me _yesterday_ ’ _Dios mío_ the woman could even _speak_ in italics.  
‘Ehm. Ah, yes, _mi amor_ , but it seems like she found me today, no? Say “Hola”, Frida Kahlo!’ He poked the fluffy alebrije awake. She opened one surprised eye but started purring. The purr made Héctor’s bones rattle. A rib fell off.  
Imelda looked surprised for about two seconds, and then began to laugh. Behind her, Oscar and Felipe were hanging onto each other, laughing at the little alebrije as she tried to jump out of Héctor’s ribcage but somehow missed and ended up with her back paws in Héctor’s mouth. Rosita was fanning herself laughing and even Victoria cracked a smile. Héctor plucked Frida Kahlo out of his mouth, and held her in his arms.  
‘I like her.’ he said. Frida Kahlo nuzzled his cheek.  
‘She sure is yours, Héctor!’ Felipe said jokingly. He reached out and touched the fluffy alebrije, who nuzzled at his hand. Frida Kahlo’s purring rattled Felipe’s arm.  
Imelda stuck out a finger as well, and smiled as the alebrije licked her hand.  
‘Hola, Frida Kahlo. You’ll take good care of my husband, won’t you?’  
Right on time, Frida Kahlo let out a little _beep_.  
‘Good enough. She can stay’ Imelda said.

 

A few weeks later, the Rivera shoe shop had been robbed. All of the money they had earned had gone. Imelda wrung her hands.  
‘I need my spirit guide. Pepita!’ She put her fingers to her mouth and whistled. Pepita unfurled her enormous wings and flew over.  
‘Ah, yes, I also need my spirit guide!’ Héctor said to the world in general. ‘Frida Kahlo!’ He opened his vest and poked the fluffy alebrije, who started purring. Héctor’s right knee fell off.  
‘Héctor, I am _certain_ that Pepita is more suitable for the job.’ Imelda said.  
‘Ah, yes, but everything is better with Frida Kahlo!’ Héctor retorted. Pepita nosed at Frida Kahlo, who promptly tried to stick her head in Pepita’s nostril.  
Imelda laughed. Héctor decided he was right. Everything was even better with Frida Kahlo.

The next week, Coco came home.  
Everything was perfect.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to WereWeasel for the amazing Frida (Gato) Kahlo art! I love it so much that I want to print out an entire stack and then roll around in them.  
> Find more cool art here, and give the artist a follow: https://weaseldraws.tumblr.com/
> 
>  


	2. Frida Kahlo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two short stories of how the alebrije, Frida Kahlo, fits into Héctors life. Thanks to Backuppixiedust for the excellent name idea!

And suddenly Héctor had become famous. Suddenly he and Imelda had been asked to perform at the Sunrise Spectacular, which was still being held, but now available for everyone, particularly the ones without photos on ofrendas, or the ones who simply wanted to go.

Frida Kahlo, the _real_ Frida Kahlo, had been asked to once again do the decoration. During rehearsals, Héctor walked in on her. Frida Kahlo was explaining the setting to a group of young dancers.  
‘…and the waterfall looks like me. There is a rainbow in the waterfall that also looks like me. Then the music goes BWAA BWAA BWAAA and then we set fire to the rain, like in that song. _Comprenden?_ ’  
The dancers nodded excitedly at Frida Kahlo. None of them had any idea what all of it meant, but it did mean a lot of money and a whole new network.

Frida turned around and spotted Héctor. ‘Señor Rivera! What a pleasure!’ She grabbed him and kissed him once on each cheek.  
‘Pleasure is all mine, señora Kahlo! We are honored to have you on the Sunrise Spectacular again.’ Héctor said, while Imelda next to him was also being greeted and kissed.  
‘ _Lo sé, lo sé._ You are blessed.’ Frida nodded. She let go of Imelda and stared at Héctors shirt. It had moved. Héctor had bothered to wear a blouse today, but his alebrije, Frida Kahlo, was still curled up in his chest cavity. Imelda shot him a glance.  
‘You brought _her_?’ She demanded.  
‘She didn’t want to stay home! Meowing until I…’ Héctor hardly had time to reply, for his alebrije, Frida Kahlo, had managed to open one of his buttons and had stuck her head out.

The real Frida Kahlo considered the fluffy alebrije. She offered a hand to it. The alebrije rubbed her head against Frida’s hands, and started purring. Purring always felt odd to Héctor, as if he had a mixer in his stomach. His bones rattled. They stayed together, to his surprise. He must have gotten stronger! His alebrije purred louder as Frida Kahlo tickled her under her chin.  
Héctors head decided it had had enough, and fell off. Imelda caught it before it hit the floor and put it back on his neck.  
_’Ah, gracias, mi amor’_ Héctor said. ‘I do apologize, señora Kahlo.’  
Frida Kahlo waved the comment away, delighted by the fluffy alebrije. ‘It is no matter. Happens to the best of us. Do tell me, what is this _bonita’s_ name?’  
Imelda turned to Héctor, the ghost of a smile on her lips. ‘Yes, Héctor, do tell Frida what your alebrije is called.’ She said, already looking forward to the answer.  
Héctor gulped. He mumbled a name, but Frida had better ears than he had accounted for.  
‘You named her Frida Kahlo! _Ese es un hermoso nombre!_ I would have not chosen better! Though to avoid confusion during rehearsals today, perhaps we could refer to her as Frida Gato, sí?’

Héctor stared back and forth at the two Frida Kahlos, and decided that would be a perfect idea.

 

————

It was one of those days. One of his friends from the slums had been forgotten. He had always called her ‘Tiá Alma’, but she had of course never been his family. He had tried to help her. But the Final Death takes everyone in the end.  
Imelda had held him, but had to run an errand for the shop. He sat on their bed, staring at his hands. He wondered when it would happen to him. He hoped it would be a long time. He hoped he would get to see Miguel again before it happened. His great-great-grandson… He missed the little _chamaco_ more than he could tell.

A silent tear fell down his face. For Tía Alma, for Miguel, and for everyone he had lost along the way to his _familia_.  
A soft bio-bap of little feet sounded on the wooden floor. Something landed near Héctors feet with a light _thud_. It was accompanied by a soft _beep_ , and a purr that shook the foundations of the room.  
Héctor looked down.  
To make him feel better, Frida Kahlo, his alebrije, had brought him a papaya.

 

————

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think anyone can be sad with a gift of papaya. 
> 
> Where on Earth did Frida Kahlo get it, though?
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks so much to WereWeasel for the amazing Frida (Gato) Kahlo art!  
> I love it so much that I want to print out an entire stack and then roll around in them. And yes, I did put them on both chapters. I made a character that someone made art of!!!  
> Find more cool art here, and give the artist a follow: https://weaseldraws.tumblr.com/


	3. Amiga, it's cold outside...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Héctor is dead. His nerve system is gone. WHY IS HE COLD?

He was supposed to be dead, how on Earth was he _cold_?  
He recognised that Imelda was away to visit some friends on the other side of the… town? Structure? Whatever. He missed her, and now he was cold, too. He huffed. He turned over onto his side. Napping wasn’t the same without Imelda. The blankets were cold, too. He had talked about the cold with some guys from Shantytown. An old war veteran had noticed that it was a lot like having lost his leg. You know it’s not there, and yet it is.  
Héctor Rivera sighed. He turned under his sheets again. The veteran had been right. He was technically always cold, but now his… whatever his brain was, decided everything was _feeling_ cold as well.  
A small _beep_ broke the silence of the bedroom. Frida Kahlo, Héctor’s alebrije, had returned. The brightly coloured fluffy cat with winged feet had been outside for a while, doing who knows what, but was now back. She beeped at Héctor. He smiled at her.  
‘Cold day today, eh, _amiga_ ’  
' _Beep_ '. Frida Kahlo tilted her fluffy head and looked at him with big eyes. Héctor couldn’t understand her, but he sort of felt the meaning.  
‘No, _amiga, no estoy triste_. I’m just… cold.’  
Frida Kahlo blinked. This was not something to be solved by bringing papayas. She decided Héctor was cold, so he must become warm.  
She leapt up onto the bed. The little wings on her feet decided she didn’t. She somehow ended up on top of the dresser. She _beeped_ confusedly before trying again. This time she did end up on the bed, straight on what used to be Héctor’s groin. He winced. It could never hurt, but his body remembered that it once did.  
Frida Kahlo was pleased that she had made the bed this time. Nosing her way under his hand, she allowed him to pet her. Then, she started digging around in his blankets. Héctor tentatively raised a piece. Frida Kahlo crept underneath, and curled up in Héctor’s chest cavity. She started purring softly.  
Héctor slid his arms under the blankets and hugged his chest. Frida Kahlo was curled up inside, purring soft enough to keep him from losing his bones, but just enough to cause enough friction to make them feel warm.

When Imelda returned, it was to her husband, who was fast asleep, with a light under the blankets that could only be either the worlds strangest flashlight, or the worlds fluffiest alebrije. She smiled at them both and slid in between the sheets. The day had been cold for her as well. Héctor happily murmured something and wrapped his softly shaking arms around her. He was… warm. How on earth was he _warm_?

As if answering the question from underneath the blankets, Frida Kahlo noticed the addition to a new bed-mate, and increased the purring a little. Imelda felt the purr shake through her bones as well, warming her up in a matter of minutes.

They only later learned that it had snowed in the Land of the Living that day.


	4. Recuerdanos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter was cold, this one is warm.  
> Turns out Frida Kahlo likes music, too.

The sky was a beautiful orange, the ground was warm. The air smelled of fresh mango and nectarines. It was the sort of warmth that settles around your shoulders like a warm blanket. A warmth that kisses you sweetly and holds you close. A perfect late spring day, the freshness still in the air, but the heat of summer on the threshold.  
The kind of evening that can only be made better by a bit of music. And Héctor Rivera had just gotten a new guitar.

He sat on the front porch of the Rivera house in the Land of the Dead. His hands automatically strummed his guitar, playing along to the spring melody that seemed to be everywhere. He didn’t know the words, but that didn’t matter. It was a happy song.  
A soft tug on his trousers brought him out of his trance. He looked down to see his fluffy alebrije Frida Kahlo holding a trouser leg in her mouth, staring up at him as if she were surprised to be there as well.  
‘ _Hola,_ Frida Kahlo,’ Héctor said. ‘Did I tell you that I used to be a musician?’  
“ _Beep!_ ’  
‘I didn’t? What a disgrace! Here, let me show you!’ He gasped dramatically. He knew Frida Kahlo probably didn’t understand him, but he liked talking to her. He wondered what to play. Looking at the splotched markings on her fluffy body, he was once again reminded of a finger-painting done by a child. A little girl, perhaps. He hadn’t sung that song since the day Miguel came to the Land of the Dead but he felt like Frida Kahlo needed to hear it, too.  
Ah, well. Why not. After all, it was the right time of night…  
Héctor tuned his guitar, and started to play softly again, directing his song toward Frida Kahlo.

‘ _Remember me, though I have to say goodbye_  
_Remember me, don't let it make you cry_  
_For even if I'm far away I hold you in my heart_ ’

Frida Kahlo had let Héctor’s trouser leg to and was now staring up at him with big bright eyes.

‘ _I sing a secret song to you each night we are apart_  
_Remember me, though I have to travel far'_

Frida Kahlo padded over to Héctor, the little wings on her feet silent for once. She gently rested her forehead against the guitar. Héctor raised his eyebrows at her, but kept singing. He figured this meant she liked the song, in her weird Frida Kahlo way.

‘ _Remember me, each time you hear a sad guitar_ …’

Frida Kahlo started purring loudly. The purr brought an entire new vibrato into the shiny wood of the guitar, making it a whole new instrument. It was almost the definition of warmth, the soft tones of the guitar and the loud purring of a cat that resonated within the instrument. The guitar played a song that was slightly shaky now, as if the guitar itself knew of what sort of thing it spoke.

_'Know that I’m with you the only way that I can be_  
_Until you’re in my arms again_  
_Remember me_ ' 

As the last note ended, Frida Kahlo stopped purring. She raised her head from the guitar and _beep_ -ed up at Héctor. He looked at her. Her big eyes slowly closed at him. A thank-you.  
‘ _Mi amiga_ …’ Héctor said, awestruck by his little alebrije. ‘You never told me you were a musician as well!’  
‘ _Beep!_ ’  
‘ _Sí, tienes razón_ , I could have guessed.’  
Frida Kahlo clambered up into his lap, and he held her close.  
They played together for many days afterwards. And on the following year’s Sunrise Spectacular, they played _Remember Me_ together, for Coco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the sort of song Héctor plays at the beginning:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RAQ-6if7pm0


	5. In The Shoeshop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt fill from WereWeasel, who asked for:  
> 'I thought it would be cute if the Rivera family were making shoes and Frida Gato came in like “hello Hector’s family you all must pet me. It’s for your own good.” And got underfoot. And they love her but at the same time they’re like “plz I’m trying to work.” ' 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this little story!

Rosita, or Tía Rosita, as she was usually known, was working on a brand new pair of shoes. A brown lace-up boot with a slight high heel, for a play that was being performed. The play was one of her favourites, El Gato Con Botas, Puss in Boots. Rosita had always been very fond of cats, having owned a lot in her life. She concentrated on the details on the boots, making them as alike as possible. Hand stitching had always been her forte. 

Across from her, Oscar and Felipe were trying out a new polishing machine. Imelda was gone with Héctor on an errand, leaving the brothers in charge of the shop. It usually went well, only Oscar and Felipe were in a sort of mood, now trying to polish each others heads with the shoe polisher, wrestling over it. Luckily, it took only a glance from Coco’s daughter Victoria before they behaved like normal people again. Victoria could outstare a cat, and had the same cold steel in her eyes as Imelda did. Rosita envied her sometimes. 

The room was now quiet, and the only thing that was heard was the soft hammering of small nails in shoes, the dragging of a sewing needle through thick leather and the soft vrooomm-click-click-click from the polishing machine. Everyone was concentrated once more. But of course it could not last.  
There was a soft _thud_ , and the door opened a little. Julio greeted the little fluffball as she headbutted the door, making it open more.  
‘ _Hola,_ Frida Gato!’ Julio had found the Frida Kahlo story so funny that he now always called the little alebrije by her nickname. Frida Kahlo beeped at him, and rubbed around his ankles.  
Apparently, she had decided it was Frida Kahlo time, and had come to cuddle with Héctor’s _familia_. She jumped up onto Julio’s workbench, her winged feet trying to drag her towards the ceiling van. This time, she won, but only by embedding her front claws into Julios thighbones. The claws felt extremely weird on dry bone. They left scratches that probably wouldn’t go away, but Julio seemed to find that amusing.  
‘Clever Frida Gato!’ He told her, laughing and offering his other leg. ‘You are making decorations on my leg! Can’t you do the other as well? I want to be _muy guapo_ when my dear Coco arrives!’  
Frida Kahlo beeped confusedly at him. She head butted him on the chest and demanded to be pet. He obliged, but he also had to work on the tap-dancing shoes he was making. He gently nudged the fluffy alebrije aside and continued tapping the nails into the sole. Frida Kahlo got into his face and tried to stick her nose into one of his eye sockets. Julio chuckled, picked her up, and set her down on the floor. He gave her one last pat on the head, and rolled a nail for her to play with.

That worked for about five minutes. Oscar came back from a little break to find his brother laughing his spine off as he saw Frida Kahlo on her back under the new shoe polisher machine. She was purring so loud it was shaking the entire house. Her ears and face got squished as the wings on her feet decided that polishing was done and started to drag her away from the shoe polisher. She beeped at her feet.  
Oscar attempted to help her, since Filipe was trying to put his spine back on.  
Suddenly, there was a loud _POP_ , and poor Victoria, who had been in her own special shoe-making zone, suddenly had to deal with a face full of fluff. Frida Kahlo had been launched from the shoe polisher and had flown halfway through the workshop. She spluttered as she got the alebrije away from her mouth, and turned Frida Kahlo the right side up again.  
‘Ay, Frida Kahlo, you are very _linda_ , but these dancing shoes have a deadline! Can’t you do something else?’  
‘ _BEEP_ ’ Frida Kahlo tried to stick a paw into Victoria’s nose hole. Felipe, who had just recovered, burst into laughter again.  
‘Yes, yes, we love you too.’ Victoria said, smiling at the _beep_ -ing cat.

Rosita took Frida Kahlo from Victoria, and set her on her lap while she made the boots. Her own cats had sat on her lap a lot while she worked. What could happen?  
A _lot_ , apparently.  
No one exactly knew how it happened, but in a manner of seconds, Frida Kahlo had decided that Rosita’s workbench was nice to jump up on. Her winged back legs had somehow caught the just finished boots for the play, and had launched the little alebrije into the air. Her front paws were clutching at everything there was to grab. They found something

The door opened, and a customer stepped in. The director of the Puss in Boots play, coming to pick up the shoes.  
It took him a moment to take everything in.  
Felipe was on the floor on his hands and knees, laughing his ribs off. His brother, Oscar, was knelt next to him, clutching his shoulder and trying to not fall apart either. A head rolled past. Rosita’s body stumbled after it.  
Victoria was holding a ladder that Julio was standing on. Julio was trying to get hold of a pair of boots that were on the feet of the worlds fluffiest alebrije, who was spinning slowly on the ceiling fan. The alebrije caught sight of him and _beep_ -ed happily at him, apparently thrilled with this new game.

Strangely enough, it was the most normal thing that had happened to him that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I made any errors with the Spanish, please tell me!!


	6. Hat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dead, surprisingly, do dream.

The dead, surprisingly, do dream. Héctor dreamt that night. He dreamt that he was walking down the Marigold Bridge for the first time in his life. His feet left shiny prints. He dreamt he was going to see Coco for the first time. He looked down at his clothing. It simply wouldn’t do. That silly straw hat? No thing for his little girl to see him in for the first time in years.

Luckily, there was a hat shop right next to the flower bridge. He went inside. Pepita was there. She sold hats. Héctor was scared of Pepita, cause she had different hats on each horn and spine on her body. Pepita wanted Héctor to buy a big warm fur hat. Héctor wanted to buy a handsome black top hat. Pepita growled at Héctor. Héctor decided he didn’t want a hat after all and anyway it was all stupid since Coco was already standing next to him, wearing a enormous pineapple. Then Julio came out of a hole in the ceiling and started to sell fish. Héctor decided he should leave.  
He suddenly had an incredibly warm hat on.  
‘ _Jodete_ , Pepita, I told you I don’t want that stupid hat…’ he murmured. The hat began to wash Héctor’s hair.

Héctor woke up, slightly annoyed.  
His first thought was: _Pepita is a very bad salesperson_.  
‘Whaddit she sell?’ A sleepy voice next to him indicated that he had spoken that thought out loud.  
Héctor second thought was, _If I just dreamt, why am I wearing a hat?_  
He turned his head up sleepily. Big eyes stared down at him, upside down. A pink tongue tried to lick his eyeball.  
‘Aa!’ Héctor shouted, and somehow went from a horizontal position to a vertical one in a matter of seconds. Frida Kahlo, who had been trying to wash Héctor, was thrown onto her back. She _beep_ at him confusedly.  
‘What… Frida Kahlo? Why are you a hat?’ He asked, still not entirely awake.  
‘ _Beep_ ’  
Next to Frida Kahlo, Imelda rolled over. Frida Kahlo decided that Héctor was done washing. She lay down on Imelda’s head, her front paws on Imelda’s forehead. She started to wash Imelda’s hair, pink tongue flicking in and out.  
‘…very bad hairdresser, Pepita…’ Imelda murmured. ‘No treat for you…’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With lots of thanks to my own cat, Castor. He decided a couple of days ago that he wanted me to wake up. How do you wake Ella up? Pretend that you are a hat, apparently. 
> 
> Thanks, Cas. Love ya. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I kind of headcanon Imelda and Héctor as the sort of couple that just sort of sleeptalks to each other. So Héctor dreamed about Pepita, and sleeptalks. Then Imelda's dream changes to also include Pepita.


	7. Ticklish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frida Kahlo discovers there is more things than only sleeping in a ribcage. 
> 
> Héctor discovers that he is still very much ticklish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for thegrumpykidneyeater on Tumblr, who asked for:
> 
> 'Okay so this is rlly dumb but, surprise tickles from the adorable kitty. its fluff uwu'  
> Check them out on http://thegrumpykidneyeater.tumblr.com/
> 
>  
> 
> Hope this is fluff enough! 
> 
> Thanks for the prompt!!

________

 

The pillow was soft, the bed was warm. Héctor’s arms were wrapped around Imelda, who was softly musing about free time.  
‘…make 37 shoes in the next two months, we can have two weeks off after Dia de Muertos. We can go to those hot springs in Tolantongo Caves, or maybe just a concert, or have a little holiday to… well, wherever.’  
‘The hot springs sound nice, _sí_? I’ve always heard from the guys in the slums that there’s nothing better for your bones than a good… OOOAUAH!’  
A shock went through the bed as a shock went through Héctor’s body. He accidentally kicked Imelda in the shin, who promptly kicked him back, as a reflex.  
‘Héctor, what on earth are you…’ Imelda was cut off by her husband, who was laughing and squirming around in bed.  
‘HAHAHAHA WHAT.. NOOOOO…NONONO STOPPIT… HAHAHAHA!’  
Imelda suddenly had a vague idea of what was going on. She pulled the sheets away from her laughing husband. It was as she had expected.  
Héctor had always been ticklish, even pointing a finger at his side was usually enough to make him laugh. When she sometimes poked him in the side, a sound much like the one he had just made: ’OOUUAAAGH!’

Imelda was happy that little thing hadn’t gone when he had died, for in his ribcage, the alebrije Frida Kahlo was fast asleep, but her wings weren’t. The wings flapped against Héctor’s ribcage, tickling him from the inside. It was almost like the idea of a small child, holding a stick and banging it against a fence.

Héctor fell off the bed with a loud _thud_. He kept screaming with laughter, unable to do anything but squirm. Imelda started laughing as well. Her husband looked so incredibly foolish, trying to beat off a foe that wasn’t there, while inside an alebrije ticked him with her wings. Frida Kahlo had of course woken up, but was enjoying herself immensely.

Oscar and Felipe ran upstairs to see what all the fuss was about, and together with them, Imelda was able to get Frida Kahlo out of Héctor’s ribcage. They held Héctor down as he thrashed about, laughing, and Imelda pulled the alebrije out of her hiding spot.  
Héctor stopped laughing and was finally able to catch his breath. Oscar stared ponderingly at the little alebrije in Imelda’s arms. Frida Kahlo had woken up again, and Imelda was explaining to Héctor what had happened. Oscar remembered being tickled by Imelda and his brother, and how incredibly helpless he felt as he crumbled with laughter.

‘Say, Frida Kahlo…’ Oscar began.  
‘ _Beep!_ ’ Frida Kahlo said, gazing at him with her big eyes.  
‘Would you mind… trying that again? I haven’t been tickled since I was alive!’  
‘ _BEEP!_ ’ Frida Kahlo attempted to leap out of Imelda’s arms and tried to reach Oscar. She missed. She hit Felipe right in the face. He pulled her off, grinning, and handed her over to Oscar. Frida Kahlo looked up at him and he nodded.  
She crawled into his ribcage, and started fluttering the wings on her feet against his ribs.

The effect was immediate.  
‘AAUUGHGHSHHHOOOOOHHHHHHAHHHHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA’ Oscar shouted, while attempting to save himself. Felipe was already laughing at his brother. Oscar endured this torture for a couple of minutes, and then Frida Kahlo decided that she needed another victim. She launched herself at Felipe and began to tickle him as well. He let out a very high pitched shriek, that had Héctor in stitches for another five minutes. Frida Kahlo had found a new hobby.

When they came downstairs, Héctor, Felipe and Oscar still breathless from laughing, Rosita wanted to try as well. There was a great ruffling of skirts before Frida Kahlo was inside her ribcage, but when that happened Tía Rosita was reduced to a pile of bones, having giggled hard enough to make herself fall apart. Julio was less ticklish than his sister, but got the alebrije out more quickly, since he said ‘It makes me feel weird, as if there’s an organ inside that isn’t mine?’ The others thought that was fair enough. Imelda gently declined being tickled. She hadn’t been ticklish when she was alive, and was not to start now.

When Frida Kahlo was once again in Héctor’s ribcage, she made a promise to herself.

And so, if the alebrije found that her _familia_ was a bit too quiet that day, she would simply flutter her wings against Héctor’s ribs. Just to let him make that funny noise.

‘AAUUUOOHHHHHOOOOOUUUUH!!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you think it's better to keep these oneshots all in the same fic, or would you like me to upload them all in separate ones?  
> If I upload them separately, I can gift them more easily, but I might clog the fic list with fluffy alebrijes. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! :)


	8. ¿Recuérdame?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coco comes home.

It was evening when the old payphone next to the Rivera house rang. And rang. And rang. And then a passer-by picked it up. There was a short conversation in Spanish, and then the passer-by ran into the Rivera shop. They found the Rivera family sitting in the living room just beyond the shop, working on various hobbies.  
‘ _Señores y señora’s, perdóname_ , but the man on the phone said someone called Socorro Rivera is waiting for you!’ The passer-by said.  
There was a silence in the room. A man in the back wearing a straw hat sitting at the table slowly raised his head to look at the passer-by.  
‘Coco is… here?’ the head, belonging to what the passer-by recognised as some _músico_ asked.  
‘ _Sí, señor!_ ’ the passer-by nodded enthusiastically, before he was completely bowled over by the entire Rivera family, starting with the man in the back.  
Héctor Rivera wanted to start running right away, but Rosita held him back.  
‘We will take Pepita, Héctor! She is faster!’  
Julio was panicking, taking a quick peek in the window to see if he was polished enough for his wife. Victoria was picking at a loose thread in her dress.  
Imelda whistled for Pepita, and Héctor quickly shoved Frida Kahlo up his chest. She _beep_ -ed indignantly, but was quickly shushed by Héctor, who explained what was going to happen. Then Frida Kahlo began to purr.

The journey on Pepita seemed to take incredibly long, and yet it was only a couple of minutes before they touched down on the parking lot of the Department of Family Relations. Not much people were here tonight, but a single light shined in one of the windows.

Coco.

Imelda was first to the door. Julio next to her and Victoria on her heels. Oscar and Felipe were right behind, followed by Rosita.  
Héctor hung back. Would Coco even want to see him? What if she rejected him? What if she didn’t recognise him? What if she _hated_ for what he had done and had only remembered him so she could… he didn’t know. What if…

Frida Kahlo had enough, and jumped from Héctor’s chest. She padded up to the door, catching up with Imelda.

 

Imelda, at the front, felt her entire body tense. She wished Héctor was here to hold her hand, but she was also secretly pleased that he had held back for a bit.  
Imelda was scared, but also practical. She opened the door.  
An old face with white braids smiled up at her. Her back was crooked, but the smile lines around her eyes were unmistakable. She was dressed in a pale pink dress. It could be a dress, but it seemed comfortable enough to be a nightgown.  
‘Coco,’ said Imelda. ‘ _Mija_ ’.  
‘ Mamá!’ Said Coco, launching herself happily into her mothers arms. She was nimble for the age she looked, for all hurts disappear once you die.

When Coco opened her eyes and looked over her mamá’s shoulder, she saw her husband Julio stand behind them, tears in his eyes. She embraced him and kissed him.  
‘Julio, _mi amór_ ,’ she said, ‘You look so young! I missed you!’  
‘Ay, Socorro, _mi corazón_ , I am sorry I left you so early…’  
‘No more talk about dying. We have living to do!’ Coco said, smiling. ‘Victoria, _mija_!’ She hugged her daughter, who hugged her mother tightly.  
Coco was just on her way to hug Oscar and Felipe, before a small _beep_ was heard by her feet.  
Coco looked down to see an alebrije that looked vaguely familiar. Extremely fluffy, with brightly coloured markings like a little kid’s finger painting. The alebrije _beep_ at her again. She crouched down and petted it. It promptly took hold of her sleeve and started walking backwards, dragging Coco to the door, aided by its little winged feet.

‘Ay, Felipe,’ said Oscar, ‘I believe Frida Kahlo thinks someone else should go first!’  
‘And right she is.’ Felipe answered.  
Imelda smiled at the alebrije dragging her daughter.  
‘Coco, this is Frida Kahlo. I think she wants you to greet someone.’  
‘Papá?’ Coco asked softly.  
‘Sí, _mija_ ,’ Imelda said. ‘He is outside.’  
Coco nodded at the alebrije. ‘Very well, pretty Frida Kahlo, show me where to go’

Frida Kahlo _beep_ -ed and led Coco outside. A skeleton man sat on a bench. The fluffy alebrije jumped up beside him and nipped his hand. He looked up.  
He saw an old woman in a nightdress. Two grey braids…  
Two grey braids… The woman smiled at him.  
‘That’s a very clever alebrije you have there, Papá.’ The old woman said.  
‘Coco…?’ Héctor could hardly believe his eyes. His daughter, an old lady. After so much obsessing over if she would recognise him, he had hardly thought that he might not recognise her.

‘ _Hola, Papá, ¿Recuérdame?_ ’ Coco said.  
‘I… I could never forget you, _mija_ ’  
‘Me, neither, Papá. I never forgot. And now I’m finally home’ she said softly, walking towards her father on dancer’s feet. Héctor forgot how to breathe.  
Coco seemed to know exactly what to do. She sat next to him  
‘ _Know that I’m with you the only way that I can be…_ ’ she sang softly  
Héctor automatically picked up the song. ‘ _Until you’re in my arms again…._ ’  
‘ _Remember me…_ ’ they sang together.

Their family came out of the Department, having finished the paperwork.  
Héctor finally embraced his little girl, the one he had been waiting for for almost a hundred years.  
‘Miguel says hello’ Coco whispered in his ear, and he held her a little tighter. Imelda joined in, followed by Julio, Rosita, Felipe and Oscar.  
Pepita curled around them and Frida Kahlo started purring.

Now, everything was perfect.

 

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for hectorswonkyfibula on tumblr, who also did the amazing art for this chapter!  
> Give him a follow!
> 
> https://hectorswonkyfibula.tumblr.com/


	9. Down To The Bone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the lovely AngelofGrace96 who asked for:
> 
> 'on the next day of the dead, Miguel gets a surprise when he can still see the skeletons everywhere. And there's a cat with wings on Hector's shoulder?' 
> 
> And for the lovely Jaimee, who asked for: 'have Miguel see a calico kitten making a mess of the festivities with its cute little antics by jumping into a bowl of papayas...or just bring Him a papaya and meow. Meanwhile Hector laughs his skull head off his shoulders.' 
> 
> I did write Frida Kahlo as calico kitten, but she didn't want to be a calico kitten in the story, so now she gets to be a calico kitten in the end notes!

__________

 

' _Say that I’m crazy, or call me a fool…_  
_But last night it seemed that I dreamed about you…_ ’

The happy melody of the guitar reached the Rivera ears before they had found their own marigold path. They had crossed the bridge together, holding hands, and were now on their way from the graveyard to the Rivera ofrenda. It was the first Dia de Muertos for Héctor, now he was finally allowed to cross the Marigold Bridge.

‘ _When I opened my mouth, what came out was a song_  
_And you knew every word, and we al sang along…_ ’

They crossed the street to the Rivera house. They ended up in the courtyard. There was a soft gasp from Héctor.  
Miguel was in a mariachi outfit, completely fit with a sombrero. He was entertaining all of his _familia_ , with his cousins playing other instruments. But it was no illusion who was the star of Dia de Muertos. His great-great-grandson, his little chamaco. A musician. He owed the little guy so much. Tears welled up in his eyes, before Imelda nudged him and they started to dance. Frida Kahlo, who had been napping in Héctor’s chest, attempted to jump down but failed horribly. She ended up on Héctor’s shoulders, where she decided it was a good place after all.

Frida Kahlo got barked at happily by Dante, who was back in his normal form. Alebrijes choose, after all, what form to take, and Frida Kahlo was happy to remain bright and shiny for all her life. On the corner of the table she could see Pepita, in the guise of a black and white cat. That confused Frida Kahlo. Pepita was supposed to be bigger than her!  
Her confusion didn’t last long. A soft pat on the head from Héctor was enough to set her off purring.

‘ _To a melody played on the strings of our souls_  
_And a rhythm that rattled us down to the bone_ ’

Héctor had picked up on the song and had grabbed the spirit-version of his old guitar, and was playing along with Miguel. Frida Kahlo jumped down to press her head against the guitar, making her purr one with the song.

‘ _Our love for each other will live on forever_  
_In every beat of my proud corazón!_ ’

Unbeknownst to all, Miguel, who had been wrapped up in the music before, opened his eyes and saw his _familia_ , his entire _familia_ in the courtyard. He wanted to gasp, but his singing got in the way.  
His Pápa Héctor was playing and dancing along to him with his spirit-guitar. Miguel was happy to see him in new trousers. Héctor also moved more fluidly, like the rest of the skeletons did, though he did still have the tendency of dislodging himself, Miguel could see.

He decided to give them a hint.

 _Ay mi familia, oiga mi gente_ ’ he sang, trying to catch Héctor’s eye. He did.  
‘ _Canten a Coro, let it be known_ ’ Miguel sang. Héctor smiled at him. Miguel smiled back.  
‘ _Our love for each other will live on forever!_ ’ Héctor looked shocked, but seemed to understand.  
‘ _In every beat of my proud corazón!_ ’  
Miguels living relatives raised him into the air as he belted out the last verse of the song. Héctor had gently set his guitar aside, and was now talking excitedly to Imelda. Imelda nodded at Héctor, and pointed him towards the ofrenda. They guessed it was the first place Miguel would look. It was also a place where the family would most likely not come for this moment, being too busy enjoying themselves.

………

‘Pápa Héctor!!!’ The wind was crushed out of Héctor as his great-great-grandson hugged him tightly.  
‘Miguel! _Mijo_ , you played so well!’ Héctor enthused as he picked the boy up and spun him around. He was so happy he could touch and hug Miguel. He had been afraid he wouldn’t be able to.  
‘How are you able to see us?’ Héctor asked.  
‘I… may or may not have stolen something from the ofrenda…’ Miguel said sheepishly, and held up a piece of chorizo.  
‘Chorizo. Really? That’s cold, _chamaco_. I think you’ll need our blessing again before the night is over…’ Héctor said, pointing at Miguels little finger. The tip of his pinkie finger on his left hand was skeletal. Miguel flexed it.  
‘Ah… Well… That actually is a funny story…’ Miguel said. ‘Turns out I got a souvenir from the Land of the Dead. This finger has never really gotten back. I never needed to steal the chorizo. I never did, actually.’ Miguel shrugged. ‘Guess I can always see you guys now? Plus, it helps me play the guitar!’ He added enthusiastically.  
Héctor nodded at him. It was not unheard of that someone that had crossed the Marigold Bridge had been given special powers.  
‘But don’t tell anyone!’ Miguel pleaded. ‘I don’t want to become some occultist!’ He said, while waving his arms around in what he thought was a mysterious manner.

‘ _BEEP_ ’ Frida Kahlo had decided that she wanted to join the conversation, and had just poked her head out of Héctor’s breastbone.  
‘Aah!’ Miguel yelped, surprised by the fluffy head.  
‘Oh, it’s no problem, _mijo_! Miguel, meet… My alebrije! Say _”Hola”_ , Frida Kahlo!’  
‘ _BEEP!_ ’  
‘You named your alebrije Frida Kahlo?’ Miguel laughed as he stroked the fluffy head. Frida Kahlo began to purr. Héctor’s right eye fell into his mouth. Miguel pulled a face. Héctor plopped his eye back in.

Frida Kahlo decided that she wanted to have a closer look at Miguel. She tried to squeeze herself onto Héctor’s shoulder, failed, and had to go backwards. Her fluffy head got stuck between a rib and a collarbone, and Héctor had to push her down.  
Frida Kahlo leaped away from his chest, right onto Miguel’s right shoulder. He took her off, and held her in his arms. She purred. Miguel felt his jaw rattle, as if he was sitting in a very shaky bus.

Liking the boy, but wanting to explore, Frida Kahlo hopped up onto the ofrenda, and was now nosing at the dead Rivera’s photographs. Her little winged feet knocked over a bowl of papayas, which Miguel desperately tried to put right again. She managed to grab a little papaya, and put its spirit form into Héctor’s hands. His first gift of the night.

‘Oh! I forgot!! Come look what we got you!’ Miguel said, and led Héctor to the ofrenda.  
Next to his photograph was a large variety of food, to make up for the lost years. Tamales, coyotas, pan dulche… Next to the food was a brand-new jacket, a sleeveless purple one with decorations exactly like the one Miguel wore. Héctor would later learn that they were the same decorations as those on the family guitar.

He tentatively stuck out a hand to touch the fabric. He felt the spirit-form come loose and was able to grab it. He shrugged off his old one, and tried the new one on. It fit perfectly.  
He smiled down at Miguel, speechless. Miguel hugged him again. Then, the rest of the dead relatives came in. Miguel was hugged and kissed by his Máma Coco, embraced by Máma Imelda, and affectionately noogied by Tío Oscar and Tío Felipe. His Tía Rosita and Tía Victoria also kissed him on the head. Frida Kahlo purred through the whole time, finding Héctor’s new vest very comfortable.

There was a soft sound at the door.  
‘Miguel? _Mijo?_ ’  
‘Máma! I wasn’t….’  
‘You… can see them, can’t you, Miguelito?’ Miguel’s mother came into the ofrenda room, carrying little Socorro. Their dead relatives immediately crowded around the little baby, cooing at the little girl.  
‘How did you…’ Miguel began.  
‘Miguel, I am your mother,’ Luisa Rivera told him, her head tilting sarcastically. ‘Do you really think I haven’t noticed the sudden illness after last Dia de Muertos? Or the dog? Or the _pinkie_?’  
‘No?’ Miguel tried, smiling guiltily.  
‘ _Mijo_ , I always guessed. Then again, it’s probably for the best you can see them. Is Pápa Héctor there?’  
Héctor choked on a piece of papaya. He looked at his great-granddaughter-in-law.  
‘He is.’ Miguel said. Héctor tried to wave, but of course Luisa couldn’t see him.  
‘And… And Máma Coco?’ She asked instead.  
‘Standing next to baby Socorro, Máma. She looks good.’  
Luisa didn’t turn, to her credit. She just nodded.  
‘Good. I’ll tell Abuelita that you said that Máma Coco made it well.’ She said, and turned.  
‘Wha… Abuelita?’  
‘ _Sí, naturalemente!_ She always finds out everything, no?’ Luisa laughed.  
Miguel laughed with her. And unbeknownst to Luisa, the entire dead Rivera clan laughed along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....  
>  Frida Kahlo leaped away from Héctor’s chest, right onto Miguel’s right shoulder. He took her off, and held her in his arms. She purred. Miguel felt his jaw rattle, as if he was sitting in a very shaky bus.  
> She winked at him with her left eye. He winked back with his left, too.  
> He gasped. 
> 
> ‘ _¿Qué es?_ ’ Héctor asked.  
> ‘I’m not sure…’ Miguel said. He opened both his eyes, winked with his left eye, and then his right, showing his dimple as he did so.  
> But there was no mistaking it. If he had his left eye closed, he could see Frida Kahlo, not as an alebrije, but as a little fluffy calico kitten. He explained it to Héctor, who was astounded.  
> ‘So you can see me only with your left eye?’  
> ‘ _Sí?_ Miguel answered, while trying. It did explain the headache.
> 
> (And then Frida Kahlo jumps up onto the ofrenda)  
> ....
> 
> I'd like to tell you all that I have no idea if Miguel would be able to see the dead after his ordeal but it did sound nicer than have him steal from an ofrenda again... And the troubles that come with it. Let the kiddo enjoy time with ALL HIS FAMILY!!


	10. Buenas Noches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night after Dia de Muertos, a smuggler is caught.  
> It is a fluffy smuggler.  
> Gosh, I wonder who it can be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Partly from Jaimee's prompt, but I also got inspired by FedericaColombo, who wrote the amazing 'The Never-Forgotten family'. The ending of the story is partly theirs.  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/13292523  
> Honestly, go read it.  
> FedericaColombo, this chapter is for you. Thank you for making things right in Shantytown.

 

\---------

The night after Dia de Muertos, the whole dead Rivera family got around the table to spread out what they had gotten from their ofrenda’s. Felipe and Rosita had always seen this day as a sort of Halloween, where all candy was laid out and judged.  
‘Oooh, pan dulce from little Rosa!’ Rosita cooed.  
‘And Gloria left me longaniza!’ Felipe said.  
As they collected their various foods, some _thuds_ were heard. Victoria had upended her basket, and was staring at her _familia_ with a glint in her eye.

  
‘All of that means nothing compared to… My sister’s tamales!’ Victoria declared, sniffing the treat with a look of bliss on her face. It was not often that she participated in this game, since her death day had been that night, right after Dia de Muertos. Mostly, people’s death days were days of reflection and silence. But it seemed Victoria was ready to have some fun.  
‘Ay, ay, ay, _mi familia_ ,’ said Julio, banging a dish on the table. ‘My _hija_ Elena has brought me a big bow of tres leches! Beat that!’  
‘My little cousins Benny and Manny have found me the best lulo’s in the whole of Mexico!’ Oscar enthused, biting down on one and letting the little seeds spill over his chin.  
‘Some _naranjas_ from Miguel,’ said Coco, looking happy. Her great-grandson had always given her oranges, and it seemed his tradition of peeling them for her had lasted after her death.

The rest of the _familia_ had also received various fruits from Miguel, plus some handmade alebrijes, two of which had a remarkable resemblance to Dante and Pepita.

The lights went off. Everyone made confused sounds and looked around. The only light came from the moon, shining in one of the windows, and of a fluffy neon alebrije, sitting in a ribcage, hidden by a shirt.  
‘Imagine… Darkness…’ a voice whispered. The alebrije started purring. ‘And then…’ the voice paused for effect…  
‘A GIANT PAPAYA!’ The voice shone a flashlight on what was indeed a giant papaya, held in a skeletal hand.  
‘Ay, Héctor, you have spent too much with Frida Kahlo!’ Imelda scolded her husband. She turned on the lights so everyone could see Héctor Rivera, standing on the table, shining a flashlight on a big papaya.  
‘ _BEEP_ ’ Héctors shirt beep-ed.  
‘Ay, no, amiga, Imelda did not mean you, _chula_. She is referring to Human Frida Kahlo!’ Héctor said to his shirt. The shirt seemed to understand, for a fluffy head peeked out from between two buttons and tried to escape. Héctor opened his shirt so his alebrije could go out. The alebrije hopped clumsily to the floor, along with about two dozen papaya’s, which had been hidden in Héctor’s chest cavity along with the alebrije. Héctor looked surprised. He shook out his shirt. Another ten or so fell out. Imelda slapped him on the head.  
‘ _Tramposo_ , why did you have to hide all those! There’s more than enough for everyone!’  
‘Imelda, _mi amada_ , you are mistaken. I swear on _mi guitarra_ that I did not take them!’  
Imelda nodded slightly. Héctor swore on his guitar only when he truly meant it.  
‘Okay. But if not you, then…’  
‘ _BEEP!_ ’

  
Oscar cleared his throat. He looked guilty. Felipe stood next to him, shuffling his feet. Victoria and Rosita looked about the same. Coco looked vaguely amused, while Julio tried to hide himself under his hat.  
Imelda turned to them. Oscar opened his shirt. A slight waterfall of fruit thudded to the floor. . Felipe did as his brother, sending another flood of fruit bouncing. More fruit, not only papaya’s. Rosita shook out her skirt, then Victoria. Berries had been hidden in the lining. Coco put her hand in her ribcage and pulled out various pieces of fruit as well. Julio lifted his hat. Another lot came tumbling down.  
‘What on Earth…’ Imelda began.  
Felipe shrugged.  
’She’s very persuasive’ he said, indicating the little alebrije.  
Imelda went on a slight tirade. ‘ _TONTOS_ , FRIDA KAHLO ONLY GOES _BEEP_ , HOW THE HELL DID SHE _BEEP_ YOU INTO SUBMISSION?’  
‘Frida Kahlo, what have you done?’ Héctor asked softly of his alebrije, kneeling down on the floor.

 

Frida Kahlo couldn’t talk, but oh how she wished she could. She needed Héctor to do something. Needed them _all_ to do something. She grabbed one of the papaya’s in her teeth, hopped up into Héctor’s ribcage, put it down, jumped down again, and started pulling at his trouser leg. Didn’t he see that this was really important?  
‘Do… I need to come with you?’ He asked. Frida Kahlo purred. He started after her, but she blocked his path. She picked up another papaya, and put it in his chest.  
‘Do… I need to bring the papaya’s?’ Héctor asked. Frida Kahlo purred. Victoria offered her basket. Felipe, Rosita, Julio, Coco and Oscar got their own, and they put all of the fruit in, with help from Frida Kahlo.  
She hopped down from the table and started pulling on Héctor’s trouser leg again. He started following. Imelda grabbed his hand, curious herself. The rest of the Rivera family nodded to each other, and followed the alebrije.

Frida Kahlo led the way out of the door, looking behind her to see if the family were following. She had hoped for more papaya’s on the ofrenda’s, she had visited, but she figured every kind of fruit would be alright. She _beeped_ at Héctor’s familia, and hopped towards the path that lead downwards.

It didn’t take long for Héctor to suspect where they were going. It only truly hit him when they passed the gateway to Shantytown, the slums, where the Near-Forgotten lived.  
Frida Kahlo stopped.

  
‘ _Beep._ ’ She said it with a sort of finality, like a taxi driver saying ‘Here you are _señor_ , that will be 50 pesos, _por favor_.’  
Héctor knelt down. ‘I think I know what you want to do, _cariño_. Here you go.’  
He put the basket next to his alebrije and held out a papaya to her. She grabbed it in her mouth, beeped softly at him and went into Shantytown. Someone was sitting around an old barrel, playing cards. She nudged them with her head.  
‘ _Hola, pequeña,_ how can I help you?’ The woman said, smiling down at the little alebrije.  
Frida Kahlo hopped up onto the woman’s lap, and placed the papaya there. The woman smiled.  
‘I think this is yours, little one!’ She said, and gave the papaya back.  
Frida Kahlo picked up the papaya, and put it in the woman’s hand. Frida Kahlo nudged her head against the woman’s hand, closing her fingers around the fruit.  
The woman gasped. ‘For me?’ She asked.  
Frida Kahlo purred.  
‘We… usually think that means yes…’ Héctor said, walking over. He was immediately welcomed by the Shantytowners as if he were one of their family. He was. Shouts of ‘Is this your alebrije? She’s perfecto!’ were heard over the commotion.  
He had never brought Frida Kahlo over there, but he guessed she must have followed him at one point.

Unbeknownst to him, she had followed him every time he went there. After all, he might need his alebrije!  
She could never have guessed that there were people who didn’t have their own alebrije!  
She had checked, and while most of the Rivera’s family alebrijes were not home much, she still knew them. But there were no alebrije here!  
And Frida Kahlo thought that wasn’t fair at all.  
She had decided that if Héctor was loved by everyone here, everyone here should be also loved by Frida Kahlo.  
Héctor had once sung a song that said that the world was his family. And Frida Kahlo agreed.  
If the world is your family, you should look after them.

Frida Kahlo tugged on Héctor’s trouser leg. He turned.  
She trotted over to the basket of fruit Héctor had left behind. She sat on it. She looked at Héctor and the Rivera’s.  
‘ _BEEP_ ,’ she said, as if to say _Well? Get on with it!_  
The Rivera’s shook themselves, as if awaking from a dream. They quickly picked up the baskets, and went to distribute fruit to everyone in Shantytown.  
That night, everyone in Shantytown went to bed with food in their stomachs.

When the Rivera’s got home, most of them went straight to bed, Oscar and Felipe talking in hushed voices about Frida Kahlo and what she had accomplished that day. They wondered what else could be done.  
Héctor sat up in his and Imelda’s bed, holding his dear alebrije in his arms.  
‘ _Gracias, mi amor_ ,’ he whispered to her. She blinked up at him softly. She touched her fluffy head to his and purred. Nothing fell off. She had been giving Héctor a lot of fruit in the last few weeks and had discovered that giving people fruit did good things for their bones. The Shantytowners would feel strong again for a while.

Héctor and his little alebrije had the same thought at the same time. They would be okay today, maybe for a month. But what about the rest of the year?  
Frida Kahlo had an idea. She tugged on Héctor’s hair and he followed her to the window. She looked outside.  
The mansion of Ernesto de la Cruz lay on the horizon. It had been De la Cruz’s pride and joy, filled to the brim with offerings.

Héctor smiled a sly smile.  
‘Ready for a secret mission, _pequeña?_? He asked.  
Frida Kahlo purred. It would be a busy day tomorrow.

 

From then on, every week, soft footfalls could be heard above Ernesto’s old mansion. First it was only one pair. Then, two pairs. Then, eight. Slowly, the mansion of De la Cruz was spread amongst those who needed it.

And when Victoria had made some arrangements, the entirety of Shantytown entered their new shining white home.


	11. Canten a Coro - Down to the Bone, Part 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I want in any film is for the characters to Just. Freaking. TALK TO EACH OTHER.  
> I felt like there was something missing in Chapter 9. So, I wrote it.

\---------

‘Is it true then, Miguel? You can… see them?’ His Prima Rosa asked him as they stood all around the offend. She indicated his pinkie. Miguel started. Abuelita must have told him. He stared at her. She looked back.  
‘You crossed over to the land of the Dead?’ She asked amazedly.  
‘SHHH, Rosa, don’t say it too loud!’ Miguel scolded his cousin as the entire family turned around to look. Miguel suddenly felt very exposed, with his skeletal pinkie. He quickly covered it with his right hand. His cousin Abel grabbed it and held it up to the light. The skeletal tip of his pinkie finger glinted in the light.  
‘ _Dios Mio_ , Miguel, I thought you just had a problem with white paint!’ He said.  
Abuelita slapped Abel on the head.  
‘Shhh, _tonto_! Do you want the neighbors to hear?’  
‘You mean you _knew?_

‘Of course we did. The boy disappears for most of the night, is ill when he comes back and that xolo dog follows him even more closely.’ Miguel’s mother said.  
Abuelita nodded. She added: ‘And if that wasn’t enough, he suddenly shows up with a cursed guitar and he suddenly knows Papá Héctor’s name and song without anyone telling him about it.’  
’The pinkie was only a confirmation.’ Said Luisa. She smiled and put her hand on Miguel’s shoulder.  
Dante barked. One of the twins, Benny, smiled at him. He flopped down on the floor and scratched the dog behind the ears.  
‘Good alebrije’ he said in his light voice.

‘I… did not expect they would guess so easily’ Héctor said.  
‘ _Por supuesto_. Elena knows everything’ Coco said smilingly. ‘Usually before even I know it.’ she added with a shrug.   
The living Rivera’s started muttering to each other. Fragments of conversation were heard over the susurration.  
‘…So is he a witch or something now?…’  
‘… Do we need to tell the church?…’

Miguel looked awkward throughout all this. Héctor went over and put a hand on his shoulder. Frida Kahlo, sitting in his chest cavity, purred. Héctor felt his bones warm up. Miguel felt the warm comfort on his shoulder, and relaxed a little. He looked up, confused  
‘What should I do, Papá Héctor?’  
No matter how many times Héctor had heard it, he still felt a little shock at being called _Papá_ Héctor. He smiled down at Miguel.  
‘I don’t know, _mijo_. What feels right?’  
Miguel smiled a little. Being called _mijo_ by Héctor still gave him a warm feeling.  
‘I guess… Do you guys have anything to say to the alive ones?’ Miguel asked.  
Héctor raised his eyebrows. ‘You really want to do this, chamaco?’  
‘I guess that if I have this gift, it’d be a shame to waste it, right? Besides, it’s only one night of the year…’  
The living Rivera’s had caught on to the conversation, and were listening intently to the side they could hear. Miguel looked at them, and Abuelita nodded.

Mamá Imelda, would… would you like to go first?’ Miguel asked the matriarch of the Rivera clan.  
‘Are you sure about this?’ Imelda asked softly. He nodded.  
‘Please tell… Please tell Luisa and Enrique that Socorro is the most beautiful child I have seen in the Land of the Living for a long time. And that if Socorro grows up to be even half as kind as her brother, the world will be a lot brighter.’  
Miguel, smiling wetly, relayed the message. Luisa hugged him tightly, and whispered ‘thank you’ to the world in general.  
Victoria was next. ‘Elena, I’m so sorry I left the night of our favourite holiday. I am proud of you, _mi hermana_.’  
Abuelita nodded, blinking back tears, unable to form words.

 

All the Riveras told something to their family. Sometimes it was short.  
‘Tell Benny and Manny that identical twins can swap places in class sometimes’ Oscar and Felipe wanted to say. Miguel laughed and passed it on.  
Sometimes it was longer.  
’Tell Rosa that she doesn’t need to be afraid at school. She has grown so much in the past year. And I am proud of her.’ Rosita told Rosa. Miguel passed on the message.

‘ _BEEP_ ’ Said Frida Kahlo.  
‘Frida Kahlo says _Beep_ ’ said Miguel, in a sort of trance of passing on the messages. The rest of the family looked at each other. Luisa raised an eyebrow.  
‘Oh, I mean… Papá Héctor brought his alebrije. Her name is Frida Kahlo. She goes _Beep_.’  
‘I thought I heard those papayas fall…’ Luisa said vaguely. ‘Do we get to see her?’  
‘Um… I’m not sure? She seems stuck in her alebrije form…’ Héctor said.  
Miguel told Luisa so.

  
‘Papá Héctor, would you like to say something?’ Miguel asked.  
‘I… _Si._ ’ He said, shuffling his feet and taking off his straw hat. Miguel said the sentences as soon as they were complete.  
’I would like to offer my apologies to everyone here for… for abandoning your Mamá Coco.’ Tears ran down his eyes. ‘I meant to go back the moment I left, but…’  
Here, Abuelita stopped Miguel, and effectively, Héctor as well.  
‘You were murdered by that no-good… _cabron_ …Ernesto de la Cruz. There is nothing that you should be sorry about.’ She had said the offensive word very softly, so the kids wouldn’t hear.  
‘Besides, you came back, in the end. You helped our little Miguelititito!’ Here she showered Miguel in kisses. ‘Whatever forgiveness you need, I give it. We all do. Will you give me yours?’  
‘…What for?’ Héctor asked.  
‘For keeping music out of our lives… For letting Mamá forget…’  
‘You had every right to do so, Elena, _mija_. I forgive you.’ Héctor wished he could hug his granddaughter, but of course he couldn’t.  
‘Miguel, please give Elena this from me…’ he said. He hugged Miguel. Frida Kahlo purred.  
Miguel hugged Héctor back. It looked rather weird from where the living Rivera’s were standing.  
Miguel walked over to Elena, and held out his arms. She stepped forward.  
Right in that moment, Frida Kahlo jumped out of Héctor’s ribcage and burrowed herself into Miguel’s shirt.  
Many people gasped. Abel fell over, trying to scramble back.  
For the alive Rivera’s, it was as if a shiny ball of light had appeared out of nowhere and attacked Miguel.

‘ _Calmese!_ ’Miguel said to his family. ‘It’s only Frida Kahlo! You know, Papá Héctor’s alebrije? I think she wants to hug, too!’  
‘ _BEEP_ ’ Miguel was obviously right.  
‘A-… Abuelita? Papá Héctor wants you to have this…’  
Elena stepped forward and Miguel hugged her tightly. Frida Kahlo started purring. Abuelita’s false teeth rattled slightly, but she didn’t notice.  
When they broke apart, she was sniffing.  
‘That was a good hug’ she said. ‘Thank you, Abuelito’. Elena said. Héctor started. He was an abuelito!  
There was a muffled ‘ _Beep_ ’. Miguel’s shirt lit up a little.  
‘And thank you, Frida Kahlo.’ Elena said.

‘Hey! I also want a hug from Papá Héctor and Frida Kahlo!’ Said Manny.  
‘Me too!’ Said Benny  
‘And me!’ Rosa chimed in.  
‘And me!’  
‘Hugs here too!’  
‘HUGS! HUGS! HUGS!’

It was a busy night for Miguel, but in the end, after everyone (living and dead) was done hugging and talking, he was able to sit beside Héctor for a while.  
Coco was dancing with Imelda, who was humming ‘La Llorona’ to the soft melody Rosa was playing on her violin. Miguel had told his Prima Rosa about that night, and Rosa wanted to play it for Mamá Imelda.

Héctor decided not to join in. Frida Kahlo crawled sleepily into his ribcage. She purred, as she did best. Héctor stuck his left hand on a bit more tightly.  
Héctor shuffled closer to Miguel and put an arm around his shoulders.  
‘You did good, _mijo_.’ He said. Miguel lay his head on Héctor’s chest. ‘Must be tired, huh?’  
Miguel nodded slightly. He was happy he got to help his family, but he was tired of talking. He doubted he could even sing now…

  
‘ _Say that I’m crazy, or call me a fool…_ ’ The soft voice of his great-great-grandfather rang through the night, only for him.  
‘ _But last night it seemed that I dreamed about you…_ ’  
Miguel gasped. ‘You remembered? I sang it once!’   
‘I have always been able to do that, but only with really good songs.’ Héctor said with a half-smile. Miguel looked at him, wide-eyed.  
‘You… You really think so?’  
Héctor only smiled wider.  
‘ _When I opened my mouth, what came out was a song…_ ’ he sang, pulling Miguel to his feet.  
‘ _And you knew every word,_ ’ Here Miguel joined in.  
_And we all sang along…_ ’

‘ _To a melody played on the strings of our souls_  
_And a rhythm that rattled us down to the bone_ ’

They sang together, Héctor dancing Miguel into a circle. Rosa and Abel joined in on their violin and accordion, and soon both dead and alive Rivera’s were dancing in a large circle, around Héctor and his great-great-grandson. The living ones unconsciously left a space in their circle for the dead, and for the first time in forever, it seemed like they were able to hold hands as they spun.

‘ _Our love for each other will live on forever_  
_In every beat of my proud corazón!_ ’  
Miguel sang. The next verse was picked up by the everyone else.

‘ _Ay mi familia, oiga mi gente_  
_Canten a Coro, let it be known_ ’  
_Our love for each other will live on forever!_  
_In every beat of my proud corazón!_ ’

‘ _Our love for each other will live on forever!_  
_In every beat of my proud corazón!_ ’

As the song ended, Héctor started a loud _grito_. Miguel quickly joined in, followed by the rest of their family.

  
When the _gritos_ were done, one still kept going. A shrill _BEEErreeEErrrreeEEP_ that carried over their heads and made everyone feel somehow warm and giggly.  
It seemed that Frida Kahlo had learned something this evening. Later, back in the Land of the Dead, she would almost never do a _grito_. Héctor figured that was because Frida Kahlo only wanted to do one when the entire _familia_ was together. That was fine by him. He did enough  <em>gritos</em> for the both of them. 

The night was warm. The living Rivera’s went to bed, as the dead made their way back to their own land.  
‘I also want a hug, Héctor’ said Imelda, as they walked back over the Marigold Bridge, carrying their baskets of offerings.  
Héctor smiled, put his basket down and picked up his wife, hugging her tightly and spinning her around, her skirts swishing. She kissed him. It was the best night of his death.


	12. Bathtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Héctor takes a bath. 
> 
> He also owns an alebrije-shaped cat
> 
> We all know what's going to happen.

‘Today has been… tiring.’ Héctor said.  
’Read a book’ offered Victoria, already reading one.  
‘Play some music’ suggested Imelda, sewing a shoe.  
‘Have a bath!’ said Rosita enthusiastically.  
Héctor turned towards her.  
’There is a bath?’

It had been 95 years since Héctor had a bath. The last time had been in a tub filled with cold soapy water that had been necessary since he had landed in alebrije guano after trying to cross the Marigold Bridge. Chincharron had laughed at him and had then thrown him into the laundry tub. Tia Alma and some others had scrubbed him until he shone.  
But that was long ago. And it had been cold.

‘Yes of course! Come! _Mira, mira_!’ Rosita enthused, leading him upstairs.  
She led him to a door he had thought was just a cupboard. Rosita opened it with a slight flourish.  
Héctor gasped.  
The Rivera bathroom was beautifully decorated. While the rest of the house was made simple and practical by Imelda, Rosita had been given full control over the bathroom. She stayed in the doorway, obviously proud of her work, while Héctor went inside and marvelled at the beauty of it.

A stained glass window let in red-golden light across the tiled floor. The floor itself was a sandy white, flecked with silver, like a shiny beach, or a secret hideout. While you couldn’t see it in the glass, the stained glass window made a picture of a river on the floor. As the sun filtered through the houses in the street and the stained glass, the river seemed to be flowing. Soft music played when they came inside. Tinkly music, with the sounds of a river. Birds. Water over rocks.

A blue aquarium stretched along the opposite wall, filled with shiny neon-colored guppy’s. Héctor wondered if they were alebrijes. He asked Rosita.  
‘ _Sí!_ They are mine. They don’t do much, but they are pretty, aren’t they?’ She said, walking over to the little guppy’s and putting a finger at the glass. The guppies crowded around it, greeting Rosita.  
Héctor smiled at her. He wished he had known her when they were both alive. Julio’s sister seemed to always see the sunshine in things. Even in alebrijes who didn’t do anything.

‘Here!’ She said, and turned him towards the bath. Héctor gasped.  
It was as if the back of a cave had been transported into the back wall. The dark grey rock was riddled with little shimmers and glitters. Embedded in the shiny rock there was a large smooth bathtub, big enough to hold even Héctor, if he stretched out. Protruding above the bath in the middle of the rock was a large shower that took up most of the space above the bath, making the user stand in the rain.  
Inside little crevices in the rock were a variety of bath products, ranging from simple shower gel to intricate bath bombs. The smell was sweet, but not overwhelming.  
All in all, it was a place to be enjoyed by oneself.

‘Rosita… This is beautiful’ Héctor marveled.  
Rosita tilted her head, and seemed to blush. ‘Oh, it’s always been a little hobby of mine’ she said. ‘None of the others care for baths that much, so I got this room for myself.’ She smiled. ‘I’m happy I can share it now. There’s nothing like a bath to put you right again.’ She said happily.

Héctor nodded. He smiled back at her. He could imagine Rosita using this space to get away from the busy Rivera family once in a while.  
Rosita pointed him to a little cupboard next to the bath, which contained fluffy towels in rainbow colors and a variety of candy, books and a remote to change the music. She told him to enjoy, and went outside.  
’Try a bath bomb, they’re amazing.’ She said, pointing at some dusty looking orbs inside one of the crevices. ‘Just drop one in the water and watch.’ she told him, before turning out of the bathroom.

He locked the door behind her, and the world went silent. He couldn’t hear the rattle of Oscar’s new invention, nor the soft snoring of Julio, taking a nap. Nothing, but the soft music of a river and some birdsong. He opened the tap and changed the temperature of the water to his liking. The bathtub filled up fast, considering its size.  
Héctor climbed the two steps leading to the tub.  
He laughed as he stepped into the hot water. It echoed through the bathroom. It was deeper than he thought. When he sat on his knees, the water reached the middle of his chest.  
He found that the bathtub was obviously destined for floating.  
So he did.  
He felt himself relax in the hot water. His bones spread slightly, but not uncomfortably. Heat filled him the way only a bath (or a purring alebrije) can do.  
He decided to take Rosita up on her offer. He rose slightly, hot water raining down from his ribs, and chose a bathbomb named: _amanecer_ , sunrise.

He looked at it for a while, before remembering what to do with it. He ignored the urge to eat it, and dropped it into the water.  
The water slowly turned black with a lot glitters. It smelled of blackberries. Then, as if the sun rose, a pink hue spread through the water, bringing the scent of raspberries . Then, orange and yellow, the scents speaking for themselves. At last, the bath bomb itself crumbled into a sphere of white and glitters.  
Sunrise.

Héctor himself had watched this spectacle with wide eyes. He relaxed back into the hot water.

After a while, he wanted to change the music. He grabbed some candy from the cupboard, along with a waterproof remote, making a mental note to buy Rosita all the candy she wanted.  
He pressed a button, and the bath started bubbling. Héctor laughed. He pressed another button, and the music changed first to whale songs, then to a cheerful mariachi band. Héctor kept it like that.  
Suddenly, the fluffy towels moved. Héctor, scared and naked, moved back and picked up a sponge to protect himself.  
A fluffy head poked out of the towels.  
Héctor reflexively threw the sponge.

‘ _Beep'_ said Frida Kahlo, who had been napping in the towels and who had been awakened by the new music. The sponge hit her in the head. She ' _beep'_ -ed again, then recognised Héctor. She purred at him and came up to stand on the edge of the bathtub.

 _Hola_ , Frida Kahlo,’ Héctor said, while the alebrije purred. ‘Should you be in here?’

Frida Kahlo closed her eyes as if she should. Héctor thought he might just worry about that later. He drained a little of the cooling water, and added more hot water. He sighed.  
‘This is the life, Frida Kahlo, this is the life…’ he told his alebrije, facing her.  
Frida Kahlo purred in the warmth of the bathroom.

After a while, Héctor submerged himself. He didn’t need to breathe, so this was nice.  
Frida Kahlo batted with a paw at one of the many clumps of glitter floating around the bath. She shook out the paw. Wet! The clump of glitter looked at her funny. How dare it!  
She leaped at it, like a fox leaps into snow.  
As she jumped straight into the tub, a message came into her small cat-brain. _This is a TERRIBLE idea! GET OUT! GET OUT GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT!!!_ ’  
She squealed, and attempted to go to the edge of the water. The edge was slippery! Héctor rose from the bath, confused as to what the heck was going on. He quickly saw what had happened, and grabbed Frida Kahlo around the waist, and put her over the edge of the bath.

She looked like a skinny kitten underneath all that fur. While there was definitely a bit of chub, her tail and face were shrunken down at least two sizes. She shook out her fur, making everything stand on end. She looked so miserable, that Héctor took out a towel from the cupboard and dried her off. Then he dried off himself. He was done anyway.

When Héctor had cleaned up the bathroom and had rinsed the soapy water from the tub, he went downstairs, Frida Kahlo under his arm. He set her down on the couch.  
’This little _niña_ was asleep in your towels, Rosita. _Perdoname_ ’ he said to Rosita, who laughed.  
‘Oh, _sí,_ I let her sleep there sometimes. I think she likes the bird sounds.’ She said, unconcerned. ‘Did you like the bathroom?’  
‘It was… amazing.’ Héctor said genuinely. ‘ _Gracias_ ’  
‘ _De nada_ Héctor. Use it anytime you want.’ Rosita said to him. Except for when I’m in it, of course…’ she added as an afterthought. They all laughed.  
Then…

‘Héctor?’ Imelda asked.  
’Yes, _amor_?’  
‘Why is Frida Kahlo covered in glitter?’

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a well-needed rest after my story 'Stolen Wings' I'm back at it with the fluff!  
> Rosita's bathroom is a thing of dreams. I honestly just wrote this chapter so I could write the bathroom.  
> I wish my Sims game still worked, so I could re-create it.  
> Instead, for your convenience, I have drawn a little floorplan, so you can see what it looks like.  
> You can see that one above the notes, at the end of the story.


	13. Not A Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not a chapter, this is merely the maps I drew about what the Rivera household looks like to me, for personal reference and because I really REALLY LIKE MAPS.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Real Proper Chapter will be up when I get more inspiration, I promise! In the meantime, enjoy some maps.


	14. Sleepy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frida Kahlo is sleepy. So, so sleepy.  
> Why is everyone so busy?  
> Where is her Héctor?  
> Has anyone seen her Héctor?

Frida Kahlo stood up from the dining room chair and stretched her legs. Her wings trembled with the stretching. She loved listening to Imelda hum to herself, but she was getting tired. She decided it was time for a nap. In a quiet place, hopefully. She wished Héctor was here, but she didn't know where he was.

She hopped off the chair and padded into the workshop. Almost all of the tables were empty, except for Julio’s, who was making a new pair of shoes. She went over to him and got a pat on the head as a reward, but he was making too much noise to sleep by.

The room next to the workshop was Coco’s room. Frida Kahlo gently nudged her head against the door, and it opened. A quick look around told her Héctor wasn't here.  
The orange room was pretty, but cold! The little flags above Coco and Julio’s bed gently waved in the wind coming in from the open window. And Coco herself was in the kitchen with Imelda. No, Frida Kahlo didn’t want to be cold today.

In the living room, the TV played. The newswoman was getting angry again. Héctor wasn't here either. Frida Kahlo decided to try her luck upstairs.  
As she came upstairs, the first room she tried was Rosita’s bathroom.  
She nudged the door open with a well-placed paw and went inside. The lights were off. Her fur was the only bright thing in the room, since the stained glass didn’t let through the moonlight today. The little guppy alebrije greeted her cheerfully, and she blinked at them in return. She went to the little cupboard where Rosita kept the warm towels.  
But there were no towels in the cupboard today!  
Frida Kahlo sighed. That wouldn’t do at all. She wanted a soft warm place! Not a cold cupboard or a wet bath! She said goodbye to the little alebrijes and went outside again.

Next to the bathroom was Rosita’s bedroom. But the pale pink bedroom was locked! What a shame. And still no Héctor.

Victoria was next. Frida Kahlo opened the blue door, but saw Victoria engrossed in a book in her favourite chair near the window. The little hearth was on, and the entire room was warm. Frida Kahlo _beep_ -ed at Victoria, but Victoria just smiled at a funny sentence in her book. Frida Kahlo liked Victoria, and knew that Victoria wanted her privacy now. The book was written by a very dear friend of her. Victoria had told her that.

The room across the hall belonged to Oscar and Felipe. There were thumps being heard from it. Frida Kahlo thought she might not go in. She tried to hop away but her wings slammed her into the door. She thought she might as well go in.  
As soon as she came in the door, she was immediately hit in the face with a large jet of water.  
‘ _BEEP!_ she said confusedly. She backed away and shook herself out.  
‘Sorry Frida Kahlo!’ Felipe yelled at her, hidden behind a chair and filling a water gun. ‘It’s war!!!’ He jumped out from behind the chair and fired the water gun at his brother Oscar, who dived behind the dresser he had been hiding behind. A volley of water balloons came over the edge of the dresser, aimed right at Felipe and Frida Kahlo. Felipe took one for the team. He picked up Frida Kahlo and put her outside. Then, he turned to face his fate.  
Frida Kahlo didn’t see how wet Felipe got, since he had shut the door behind her. A trickle of water came underneath the door. Frida Kahlo backed away. She had had quite enough of water for today. And now she was wet! She washed herself dry, but she was still so sleepy...

She yawned. Why was everyone here so busy? And where was Héctor?

Right at that moment, the front door unlocked.  
‘ _Hola Imelda, hola Coco…_ ’ a sleepy voice said. Frida Kahlo's ears perked up. Her purr turned on by itself. _rrrrr, rrrrrr, rrrrrr_.  
‘ _Estoy cansado…_ ,' the voice said. 'Gonna take a naaaaaaahhpp…’ Here, the familiar voice was interrupted by a huge yawn. Frida Kahlo found her own jaws yawn in sympathy.  
Feet shuffled to the stairs, and clambered up.  
Within a couple of seconds, Frida Kahlo saw Héctor’s straw hat emerge from the hole in the floor. There was a guitar on his back.  
‘ _Hola Frida Kahlo…_ ’ Héctor said sleepily, looking at her. He patted her on the head. Then he climbed the stairs to his and Imelda’s room. Frida Kahlo followed him.

She came into the room just as Héctor put down his guitar on its stand and put his hat on the same stand. The room was nice and warm. Héctor took off his shoes and changed into soft pyjamas. He smiled sleepily at the ofrenda on Imelda's side of the room. This was a special ofrenda, made for the living. Héctor smiled at a picture, and gently touched it. It was the picture of Miguel. The little alebrije’s Miguel had made stood proudly under the picture. Pepita, Dante, Frida Kahlo…  
‘ _Espero que estés bien, chamaco…_ ’ Héctor muttered to the picture, reminiscing.

Then, Héctor sat on the bed, and got under the covers. He yawned again.  
‘ _beep…_ ’ Frida Kahlo said sleepily, wondering if he had space for a little alebrije under there.  
Héctor smiled at her, and raised a corner of the covers. She jumped up onto the soft bed, and crawled inside. Héctor opened a button in his pyjama shirt, and Frida Kahlo crawled into his ribcage. Héctor turned onto his side. Frida Kahlo purred. Soon, she felt Héctor fall asleep. Her purr got slower and slower, deeper and deeper as she too, fell asleep. _RRr... Rrr.. rr..._

  
Before she descended into that soft pink space between sleeping and dreaming, she found yet again that everything was better with Héctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments so far! They help me get up in the morning!
> 
> A story from Frida Kahlo's POV! With thanks to Jaimee for the prompt of letting Frida Kahlo see all the rooms. I'm too sleepy to write a curious kitty, but I hope this is good as well!
> 
> This is inspired by the 'I Want My Hat Back/ Where Is My Hat' stories that sometimes go around on Tumblr. I love those.  
> If I could draw, I'd do a Where Is My Héctor, with Frida Kahlo and Héctor. 
> 
> In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this sleepy story, written by a sleepy person. 
> 
> ~Sweet dreams~


	15. A shoemaker through and through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frida Kahlo spends some time with Imelda, and helps her out.

These boots were _horrible_! Oscar and Felipe had tried their best with them, but even they and their fancy machines couldn’t fix the broken boots. The main problem was that these particular boots belonged to a very upstanding member of society, who really needed the boots fixed instead of replaced. ‘A tradition thing, you see’ was all they had given the Rivera’s to work with. The person in question was in charge of a alebrije parade, in which they were the lead. An assistant had dropped off the shoes. 

After Victoria, Rosita and Oscar and Felipe had all tried, they had put the boots in Imelda’s ‘In-Tray’. They had been there for over a week, and now the deadline was nearing.  
But Imelda couldn’t figure out what was wrong, either! The sole seemed to blend straight into the leather, but had a hole at the bottom that couldn’t be fixed. She needed to replace the sole, but how could she if the sole was made out of the shoe! The shoe needed to be exactly the way it was! 

She was about to give up when her desk shook with a quiet _bump_.  
‘ _Hola, Frida Kahlo_ ,’ she muttered, studying the boot for more mistakes.  
A quiet, questioning _beep_ came from underneath the desk.  
‘Yes, you may come up’ Imelda said, and was instantly greeted by a fluffy alebrije who jumped onto her desk. Frida Kahlo quickly headbutted her hand, then settled down on the corner of the desk to stare at her. Imelda stared back. It was a game they had started. Imelda could outstare a cat, but Frida Kahlo wasn’t an ordinary cat. It usually ended by Imelda getting headbutted in the face as Frida Kahlo admitted her loss.  
Imelda stared at the neon alebrije. Frida Kahlo stared back, and cocked her head. The question was clear: _What are you doing?_  
‘I’m trying to fix this shoe’ Imelda started explaining. ‘See? How the leather blends into the sole? Here, _mira, mira._ ’ she said. Frida Kahlo came a little closer and looked at the shoe. Her fur reflected slightly in the leather.  
‘ _Beep?_ ’ she asked the shoe.  
‘And I need to repair the sole. There’s a big hole in there. But I can’t replace the sole without damaging the shoe! And it needs to be exactly as it was! Ugrgh!’ Imelda exclaimed, dropping the shoe onto the table and combing her hands through her hair. When she put them down again, she found Frida Kahlo under one.  
Imelda petted Frida Kahlo, and Imelda’s hand shook as Frida Kahlo’s fur started to glow while she purred. Imelda closed her eyes, carding her fingers through the soft fur. She wondered if Héctor used conditioner on the little alebrije, since her fur was always so soft. 

 

A short nip on her hand broke Imelda out of her reverie. It was bright in the room. That was normal: While Frida Kahlo had started purring, her fur had started glowing.  
But the bright light in the room didn’t only come from Frida Kahlo.  
The discard shoe lay on the bench. And while Frida Kahlo purred and glowed, the shoe itself had started to glow with the same light of the alebrije. Imelda gasped and picked up the shoe. Suddenly, she could see where the shoe ended and the sole began. A neon green seam ran in between the two pieces of leather, masterfully disguised by an artist’s hand. Only the glow of an alebrije could make it appear. Imelda figured that the fabric wasn’t leather, but shedded alebrije snakeskin. A shoe fit for a parade!

With Frida Kahlo purring by her side, Imelda was finished within the hour. She carefully unthreaded the shoe, replaced the sole and sewed it shut with the alebrije thread again. 

When the parade leader came into the shop, Imelda was done.  
‘They are beautiful!’ The parade leader said, as she held up the shoes to her winged dragon alebrije that sat on her shoulders. The dragon breathed on them. They glowed exactly like they should.  
‘I hope they didn’t give you too much trouble? I don’t think my assistant was clear enough…’ The parade leader said to Imelda.  
‘We had a little difficulty, but I found someone to help me in the end.’  
‘Oh? Who?’  
Imelda pointed to a small ball of fur that was perched upon Imelda’s chair.’  
‘ _Nuestra pequeña Frida Kahlo,_ over there.’ Imelda smiled and the parade leader bowed to the little alebrije.  
‘Ah yes,’ she said. ‘I’ve seen her on the news a few weeks ago. _Bendiciones a Frida Kahlo_. She added, and Imelda nodded. Everything was better with Frida Kahlo. Even the normal shoes shined just a little more.  
It struck her that Frida Kahlo was truly a Rivera. A shoemaker, through and through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, as always!  
> I'm not sure if I'll be uploading more chapters any time soon, but I have got some prompts still roaming around my brain. If I haven't gotten to yours yet, it's probably because I'm trying to find it a place in Frida Kahlo's story! :) 
> 
> Thanks to OperativeNumbuh227 for the prompt! This one is for you!

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing this! I make myself laugh with this. I hope I made you laugh too.
> 
> If you'd like to talk about ideas for this fic, would like to talk about cats, or just want a new friend, come find me at http://sleepingreader.tumblr.com/  
> Fic writing is hard, so I like taking prompts! :)


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